


Midnight troubles

by Thamilde2003



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thamilde2003/pseuds/Thamilde2003
Summary: Sherlock's anxiety is working up and bothering him, forcing him to spend the night in his and John's restroom.





	Midnight troubles

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This fic is literally just me venting my own anxiety through Sherlock while doing basically the same thing Sherlock is doing in this story except I have my laptop with me and am writing fanfiction and doing homework to pass the time.  
> I hope you enjoy it anyways. :)

Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what had brought him to this point, but he had a suspicion. Earlier that day, John had somehow convinced him to go out in public and spend time with people. Twice. In crowded areas. Not ideal for someone with social anxiety.  
First had been a meeting with some old friends of John’s from medical school, other than Stamford. The second had been going home for an hour so they could meet back up with said friends at the very populated beach and chat, as John put it.  
Now, 4 hours later he was sitting here, naked back against cold tile walls and legs wearing only briefs, clenched towards his chest, staring at a porcelain throne. At half past midnight on a sunday, technically monday.  
Here he was, afraid to leave the safe confines of the locked room, for fear of some horrible man out to kill imagined up by his own mind, stupid as it was.  
He had tried to get up and open the door to leave several times, but every time, he saw the figure of a tall man with a wide grin of sharp teeth, dreadlocks, brown eyes and a tattered t-shirt, killing him, cutting out his kidneys and eating them for breakfast. Needles to say, he was thankful he was trapped in the toilet.  
It was cold, despite how hot it had been all day, the floor and walls of the toilet made Sherlock shiver and him only wearing pants, did not help. They had a rug on the bathroom floor, meant for decorating and making sure their floors didn’t get too damaged by any water that spilled from the sink while washing hands. Sherlock very much wanted to just fall asleep on that carpet and not have to think about the leaving the comfort of the bathroom. Two things stopped him from doing just that:

Falling asleep with the door locked, may just scare the living shit out of John. Not being able to get into the toilet because Sherlock was sleeping and had not woken up from the sounds of him banging on the door.  
John would go mad thinking about things like “Did he overdose and die in there?” or “Was yesterday a danger night and I didn’t notice?” or perhaps “Did he finally have enough and killed himself?”.  
None of them would be true, but how the hell would John know that?  
It was that or...  
He would have to unlock the door. That way John would be able to easily walk in and see Sherlock lying on their restroom floor. It would be confusing, but he would be able to see nothing was wrong with Sherlock.  
There was just 2 problems with that plan. Unlocking a door when you think someone is outside and wants to murder and eat you? No. Unlocking the door, letting John come in and see him almost naked on their floor? Sherlock was not one for many boundaries when it came to nudity, but even that was slightly embarrassing. Plus, what would he say to explain it? I just felt like sleeping here? Or the truth? He was scared of someone his mind made up eating his organs for breakfast? No way.

So he opted instead to just stay awake until 7 AM when John usually woke up, act like he had just needed to use the bathroom before John, and leave like nothing was wrong. Perfect. Except he had already forgone on sleep 2 days in a row. He was not likely to last the 7 hours. So either he managed to stay awake by some miracle, fell asleep with the door locked, managed the courage to unlock the door and fall asleep or managed the courage to unlock the door and hurry back to his room and bed. Whichever came first. Or after an easier option.  
For now, he was stuck here, thinking, working, and begging his mind palace to remind him of what his doctor told him he was supposed to do in these situations.  
It was going to be a long 7 hours.


End file.
